Shift
by Mizzykitty
Summary: Immediately following the fateful gumtape death match! YAOI. Nightkids-centric, Shingo/Takeshi.
1. Chapter 1

Part I

"Wait, stop! Stay on the sidewalk!" A harried male voice shouted around a box piled high with junk. The box clanked in rhythm to his steps as he carefully made his way to the car park. Just as he rounded the corner of the building, the owner of the voice ran right into someone with a loud crash. Metal and rubber went flying in all directions as a peal of childish laughter rang out over the parking lot.

"Shit!" the man cursed, bending to retrieve the strewn objects.

"Shingo! Nice to see you, too." Shingo squinted up into the bright afternoon sun at the person standing over him, and rolled his eyes when he recognized who it was.

"Nakazato!" he spat with feeling. "Don't you watch where you're going?"

"Come on, Shouji. It's a blind corner! Just let me help you." The tall GT-R driver squatted to help him pick up the scattered parts. Shingo's only reply was a grunt.

Suddenly, a little girl ran up to them and threw a rubber hose into the box. She smiled shyly at Takeshi. He blinked in surprise as she wrapped her arms around Shingo's neck in a quick hug before she ran off again, presumably to get more of the parts that were all over the sidewalk.

"Little young, don't you think? I mean, I know you probably have a hard time finding dates, but really…"

The EG-6 driver shot him a glare that could wilt plants. "She's my sister!" he hissed.

Takeshi's eyebrows shot up in surprise. He could discern no resemblance between the pretty little girl and the man before him. _Lucky for her_, he thought to himself. They both stood up as Shingo threw the last part into the box. A moderate breeze whipped a few strands of the Civic driver's long hair into his face, and he shoved them behind his ear in annoyance. Takeshi grinned.

The little girl ran up to them, pink from exertion and breathless with childish exuberance; she had a broken piece of plastic in her hand.

"'Niiichan! Here!" she presented her find to him. He smiled, thanked her, and threw the obviously useless piece of trash into the box. Takeshi gaped in shock. _'Nichan? What the hell? _The thought of anyone calling Shingo "'nichan" was bad enough, but to see the bad tempered driver treat the girl with such patience was astounding.

The child smiled up at him and suddenly introduced herself formally.

"Shouji Miki, nice to meet you!"

"Uh-Nakazato Takeshi, nice to meet you too," he said politely. She beamed at him.

"What are you doing hanging around an auto parts store, eh?" Before Shingo could stop her, she blurted out,

"Dad and mom had to work late, and Ryo's spending the night at Shintaro's house!"

"Miki!" gasped her older brother, looking about as embarrassed as Takeshi had ever seen him. "Why don't you go wait in the car?"

"Ok! Bye, Nakazato san!" she waved and bounded off like a rabbit.

"She's five," Shingo muttered, as if that explained everything. His face was quickly coming to match the color of his T-shirt. Takeshi squelched the urge to laugh. Instead, he put on a stern look.

"So! You'll be at the practice meet tomorrow, right?" Shingo had a long history of absences, and the Night Kids team leader decided to take the opportunity to make sure he showed up.

"I guess," Shingo answered nonchalantly, shoving his hands into the pockets of his torn and faded jeans. He stared off into the distance, apparently watching dry leaves borne on the fitful wind skitter across the concrete.

"Well good, because-" Takeshi was just building up to a lecture when he heard the distinctive squeak of rubber on paint. They both turned around to see Miki crawling on the hood of the red Civic SiR, and trying to haul herself up further by grabbing the windshield wipers.

"Nooo!" Shingo wailed in horror as he ran to stop her. This time, since Shingo was too busy to notice, Takeshi allowed himself a snicker. He crossed his arms and watched in utter amusement as Myogi's downhill specialist hauled his little sister off his precious car and stuffed her into the passenger seat. He couldn't quite catch what Shingo was saying, but he could hear Miki's petulant protests. He had never seen Shingo act this way, not in all the time he'd known him. Usually, the driver was so arrogant and sarcastic that he made Takeshi's blood boil within minutes of starting a conversation. But this time, in spite of the few snippy comments that Shingo had made, their conversation had been almost pleasant. Takeshi rather thought that this was a side of Shingo that he could come to like.

Sunlight glinted off the windshield as the exasperated driver examined the hood of his car to make sure there weren't any dents, while the little girl stuck her tongue out at him through the glass. When Shingo returned to the sidewalk for his box, the GT-R driver was treated to another withering look.

"Not one word!" hissed Shingo before heading back to his car.

"See you Saturday!" Takeshi called after him.

Once he was safely inside the store, the Myogi team leader sniggered till his stomach hurt, stopping only when the store worker gave him a strange look.

After dropping Miki back off at his parents' flat, Shingo drove back to his own shoebox apartment. Tossing his keys on the kitchen counter, he kicked off his shoes and threw himself on the messy bed.

"Shit. Now I look like an idiot. Even if he respected me before, which he didn't, he certainly wouldn't now!" He snorted in disgust. "And now I'm talking to myself, even better."

He fumed silently at the water-stained ceiling.

"If anyone says one goddamn word tomorrow, I swear they'll be sorry," he declared balefully. Then he rolled over to take a quick nap before he had to go to work. Just before he drifted off to sleep, he had a very satisfying vision of a little red car pushing a big black one off the road and into a metal guardrail.


	2. Chapter 2

Part II

"Have a good evening, sir!" bid Shingo politely, as the hotel guest got into his car and drove away. He retreated to the awning of the hotel's main entrance to take a smoke break before someone else wanted his or her car parked or brought around.

He sighed and watched the ribbons of opaque smoke curl up and drift away into the night.

"Busy night," one of his coworkers remarked, as he lit up next to him.

"Uh," Shingo grunted. He leaned against a concrete pillar, still warm from the heat of the day. Together, they puffed in silence, enjoying the brief respite. When they finally saw approaching headlights, his coworker groaned.

"I'll take care of it," Shingo volunteered, flicking the remainder his cigarette to the ground and crushing it underfoot.

"Good evening, sir. Welcome to the Nakayama Hotel."

The guest exchanged his car keys for a numbered wooden disc. "Thank you…Shinji," the man said, glancing briefly at his nametag.

"You're welcome, sir. Please enjoy your stay."

Shingo jumped into the silver BMW Z3 Roadster with pleasure. As he pulled the car around to the back of the hotel, he admired the sleek interior, and the smooth yet responsive handling. The center console had chrome trim, and the gauges bathed the dash and cabin in a ruby red glow. He knew that there were some European cars with red instrument panels…Audis, for instance. But they were rare to see, and more so because they were imports. He smiled happily as he eased the BMW into its numbered space. He was glad he had volunteered to pick this one up, despite the fact that the man had called him "Shinji".

"Shouji Shinji, what kind of name is that?" he muttered. He got out with reluctance, running a hand briefly over the series of shark-like gills on the side of the car. With one last longing sigh, he shoved the keys into his pocket and headed back to the entrance.

Several hours later, Shingo bid goodnight to his coworker and hopped into his Civic for the long ride home. The hotel was located 50 kilometers away from his 5th floor flat in Myogi. He had purposely picked a place that was far away, to preclude any possibilities that someone he knew might see him there. It wasn't that he disliked his job, or that he was particularly ashamed of it, for that matter. He just preferred to keep his private life just that, private. He had to admit it was part of the reason he had gotten so angry earlier, when he ran into Nakazato at the auto parts store. It had felt like a supreme invasion of his privacy, to have his family life just laid out for anyone to see.

The Myogi driver grunted and slammed the accelerator to the floor. He was pushed back into the bucket seat as the tachometer needle tipped sharply to measure the RPM increase. Shifting into neutral, he pushed the RPMs almost to redline again. Then, quickly downshifting to third, he upshifted back to fourth and sped around a black Silvia that was blocking his lane.

"Idiot," he spat.

Besides wanting to keep things to himself, he also enjoyed the long drive. It gave him a chance to clear his mind, and work off some excess aggression.

As he drove, he mulled over the strange incident. Shingo knew he didn't hate the Night Kids team leader. Certainly not as much as everyone thought he did, at any rate. He just hated Takeshi's condescending attitude. From day one he'd done everything in his power to impress the guy, but nothing seemed to work. Maybe it was just that he never seemed to say the right thing, or never did what was expected of him. Whatever it was, if Nakazato was the Black Lightning, then he surely was the Black Sheep. He frowned at the thought, then concentrated on flicking his lights in irritation at a slow moving Integra GS-R. A moment later, the Acura's blinker winked on, and it ponderously switched lanes. He sped past it with satisfaction.

But honestly, now that he thought about it, the other driver had not made a single derogatory or condescending remark during their entire conversation in front of the auto parts store. Nakazato had actually been civil to him, and all in all, if it hadn't been for all that misplaced anger and embarrassment, the encounter might even have been affable.

"If he was like that all the time, I might actually like the guy," he muttered. But then, the image of Nakazato and him hanging around together like best friends popped into his mind, and he laughed. _What a ridiculous idea!_ Even if they could manage to tolerate one another for more than a few seconds at a time, the chances of Takeshi actually volunteering to spend more time with him were pretty slim.

"What am I thinking? The guy hates me, and for all I care, the feeling's mutual."

He sighed and started to turn up the radio when his phone rang, nearly startling him out of his wits.

"Shingo," he spoke into the phone. He lowered the radio volume and slowed down guiltily. "Hi Mom."

"Your father and I both have to work tomorrow. It's a very busy time of year for our companies, and they need everyone they can get. Do you think you can watch Ryo and Miki tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow?" He frowned. "Tomorrow's Saturday! I…I have a lot of things to do."

"But you're not working, are you?"

"Well…no." He sighed. There was no point in arguing. If he refused to help, his mother would have to take off work, and possibly jeopardize her position in the process. He had no choice but to agree. "Sure, I can do it. What time should I be over?"

"Good! Well, the kids don't wake up till about 9:00am, so come by before that. We should be home by 6:00pm, but we may not." She sighed wearily. "We'll all be glad when the busy season's over."

"Yeah."

"Thank you Shingo, what would I do without you? I love you so much!"

"Uh, yeah. Ok, loveyoubyemom." He pressed the "end" key gratefully and tossed the phone onto the passenger seat; it drove him crazy to be doted on.

The alarm clock on the floor registered 1:00am when he finally flung open the door of his apartment. He flipped on the 13" TV and went into the kitchen to ransack the fridge. Finding nothing but beer and condiments, he settled for a beer. Shingo relaxed on the bed, sipping his drink, smoking a cigarette, and watching the nightly news. The story of the day was apparently about a hysterical woman who prophesied an apocalyptic earthquake that would destroy most of Japan. He yawned sleepily_. _

_I'll be sure to add that to my list of things to worry about_, he thought sarcastically.

After his dinner of nicotine and alcohol, he fell into an exhausted sleep, TV still flickering ghostly blue light around the walls of the tiny flat.


	3. Chapter 3

Part III

Shingo slapped his shrieking alarm into submission, groaning into his pillow as he heard his neighbors arguing loudly through the paper-thin walls. He cracked open a bleary eye, and noted with some consternation that it was only 8:00am.

"What the hell?" he mumbled. Then he remembered the promise he made to his mother the night before. "Shit!" he growled.

Rolling out of bed, he headed for the bathroom for a quick shower.

"Niiiichaaaan!" a high-pitched voice whined. "Ryo chan hit me!"

"She started it!" a slightly lower pitched voice complained sullenly.

Shingo was ready to rip his hair out. He had been trying to read his new issue of MotorTrend, to no avail. (Never mind that his poor language skills made deciphering the English magazine that much more difficult.)

"I did not!"

"Did too!"

"Shutup! Now!" He gave them a glare that usually sent the Night Kids scrambling to their cars. The two children were unfazed.

"Miki, stop irritating him!"

"I'm not doing anything!" she pouted.

"Yes you are. And Ryo, don't hit your sister!" The 9-year-old boy snorted angrily.

"I knew it! You always take her side!"

"I'm not taking any sides at all! You hit her, not the other way around. And besides, it's not manly to hit girls."

The young boy's eyes widened. Glad that his words had taken some effect, Shingo returned to his "reading". Unfortunately, a few minutes later, they were bickering again. Completely exasperated, he tossed his magazine aside.

"Which circle of hell have I fallen into?" he snarled. They both looked up at him, startled out of their argument. They blinked in confusion, unsure if a response was expected or not. He sighed.

"What's wrong with you two? You never fight this much."

"We're bored!"

"Yeah, we're bored!" Miki echoed.

"Well, I don't have much money, and Mom didn't give me any. So what do you want to do?" Ryo's eyes lit up.

"Take us driving!" he volunteered excitedly. Miki nodded in agreement.

"Try again. You know I can't, Dad would kill me!"

"Awwww, please?" he whined. The little girl soon picked up on her brother's tactic, and joined in the pleading.

"No! Absolutely not!" He remembered all too vividly his mother's horror when she'd found out that he had taken the children out for a quick run down Mt. Myogi. The kids had loved it, his parents had not. All his protestations of what a good driver he was did nothing to further his case, either. And after he dealt with Mom's hysterics, came Dad, who was far worse. As a rule, their father never got involved unless it was something serious. "Dad made it abundantly clear what would happen to me if I took you guys out again, so think of something else."

"What if you just drove really…slow?" Ryo cajoled. "We can go uphill. And Mom and Dad would never know!"

Shingo felt his resolve slipping. It was a beautiful day out, and he was itching to be behind the wheel.

"Pleeeaase?" Miki wheedled.

"I'll compromise. We'll go through the automatic car wash, how about that?" The children heartily agreed, and they ran to the door to put their shoes on. Sometimes, he wished he could be as easily amused.

Come 7:00pm, the children had finished their dinner and were settling down to watch their favorite TV show. Shingo was finally able to read his magazine in peace. It hardly bothered him that their parents weren't home yet; it was pretty typical of them to return home hours after they were due. He'd spent the first half of his life as an only child, and had learnt to be self-sufficient. And after Ryo and Miki were born, he'd been expected to take care of both himself and the children. Not that he'd minded, it was just the way things were. And actually, now that he was older, he was rather glad it had happened that way. There were quite a few people that he knew who couldn't take care of themselves to save their lives. Twenty years old and they hadn't a clue how to balance a bankbook, or do a load of laundry. Those sorts of people made him sick, and he was damned grateful he wasn't one of them.

Eventually, he got tired of trying to read the English magazine. Cross-eyed and confused, he closed his eyes for a minute and ended up falling asleep on the couch. He was consequently startled awake some time later by his ringing cell phone. Glaring at the phone, he recognized the number immediately.

"Shingo!" he growled into the phone.

"Were you SLEEPING? You lazy pig! It's 8:00pm. Where are you?" Shingo ran into his parents' bedroom and slammed the door shut so he wouldn't have to censor himself in front of the children.

"You bastard, who're you calling lazy? It's too bad you don't drive near as well as you talk, you arrogant prick!"

"Hey! You asshole! You told me you'd be at this meet, now what do you think you're doing?"

"I'm busy."

"Oh yeah? Doing what, sleeping?"

"None of your damned business!"

"It damn well is my business! You've missed five practice meets in the last three months, and we don't even have one every weekend! This is the last straw! If you're not here in fifteen minutes, I'll kick you off the team!"

"You can't do that!"

"Watch me!" Takeshi snarled, hanging up on him.

Shingo had to restrain himself from throwing the phone out the window and screaming in frustration. He paced back and forth, glaring at nothing in particular. On the one hand, he had just as much of a stake in the Night Kids as Takeshi did. On the other hand, however, Nakazato had a lot of influence, and if he couldn't make good on his threat, he could at least make his life very difficult.

He sat down on his parents' bed and chewed his lip thoughtfully. What could he do? There was little to no chance that they would be home in the next few minutes. If he just left the children unattended at the house, his parents would be furious. But he couldn't take them with him…could he? He paused to consider it.

"That would be stupid," he mumbled. "Children don't belong in the gallery!" He tapped the phone unconsciously on the nightstand, mired in indecision. He had no choice…there was only one thing he could do. So, he did it.


	4. Chapter 4

Part IV

"That idiot!" Takeshi raged. "Who the hell does he think he is? I can't believe his only excuse is 'I'm busy'. What the shit is that? And what the hell was that crack about my driving?" The other Night Kids backed away cautiously as Takeshi shouted into the night, gripping his cell phone tightly as if he wished it was Shingo's neck. They all found that they had very important things to do that required being far away from their storming team leader.

"Tetsuhiko!" Nakazato barked.

"Um, yes, Takeshi san?" the poor man who couldn't sneak away in time answered.

"Get everyone started warming up. Meet back up at 8:30pm for some time attacks," he ordered. Hands on hips, he brooded for a few moments, glowering in satisfaction as the other drivers (who had heard his order without Tetsuhiko's aid) scurried to their cars. Then he turned on his heel and stalked to his own. He climbed into the pitch black Skyline, slamming the door pointedly.

Takeshi watched critically as a few members of his team peeled out of the gallery. Still sitting in his parked car, he made a mental note to talk to Akio about his takeoff. He lit up a cigarette and inhaled deeply.

His rage had calmed a bit, but he was still simmering from his conversation with Shingo. It seemed like they were always fighting. It didn't matter how nice he was to the guy; all he ever got in return were smart-ass comments and insults. Of course, he did have to admit that he had picked this particular fight himself. Nevertheless, it wasn't just about this fight, or any fight specifically. It was about their overall inability to communicate without degenerating into an ugly swearing match. The problem went way beyond simple personality conflicts.

Ever since their chance meeting at the auto parts store the day before, Takeshi had been doing some serious pondering on their relationship. He was convinced that he liked the Civic driver when he wasn't being deliberately obnoxious. Certainly, he was a very good driver, arguably the best in Myogi (not counting himself, of course). And he seemed dedicated to improving his skill, which Takeshi thought was admirable. He was smart (a little too smart sometimes), truthful (painfully truthful at points), tenacious, competent, and he was also pretty cute. Takeshi froze.

"What the hell?" he blurted out loud.

Now where had that come from? Shingo was /not/ cute, not in any physical sense of the word, at any rate! But he did have a certain…appeal. Takeshi shook his head. Now he knew he was insane. Takeshi had had his fair share of guys, and quite a bit more than his fair share of girls in his lifetime. So, attraction was nothing new to him. (He even thought the new guy Akio looked pretty good…not that he would ever act on it.) But never in all his wildest dreams had he ever thought of that irritating EG-6 driver in that way.

"I've just seen him too much this week, that's all," he muttered. "Too much of that rat bastard can make anyone crazy."

Suddenly, Tetsuhiko pounded on his driver's side window, almost sending him through the roof of the cabin. He opened the door and glared at him.

"What?" he snapped.

"Genji says he just saw Shingo on the way up. We, uh, thought you'd want to know," the nervous driver reported.

"Hmph. Fine," he answered, slamming the door shut again.

Tetsuhiko blinked, then turned around and walked back to his 180sx in disgust. Moments later, a red EG-6 sped into view. The car entered the gallery traveling fast and powerslid into an open parking space in a rather violent and unnecessary squeal of tires.

The few Night Kids who weren't already out on the course hastily made themselves scarce. Takeshi checked his watch - 8:14:37pm. He shook his head in disbelief. Getting out of the car, he purposefully made his way to the other side of the gallery, where the newly arrived Civic was parked, tires still smoking from the recent abuse.

Shingo also exited his car, and they met somewhere in the middle of the near-empty lot.

"Well I'm here. Are you happy now?" Shingo sneered.

"Oh yeah, the sight of you sends me into waves of ecstasy." Takeshi snorted. "What the hell was that right there?" He pointed at the smoking tires and the black lines on the concrete. "You could have killed someone!"

"Well I had to be here, didn't I? The almighty Nakazato Takeshi summoned me, how could I possibly refuse?"

"That's a ridiculous excuse! You could have taken the time to park properly!"

"I AM parked properly!" Shingo countered. And sure enough, the car was parked perfectly between the two parallel yellow lines. Takeshi, however, was not in the mood to be impressed.

"Don't give me that shit! You know what I'm talking about!"

"Do I?" Shingo asked maddeningly.

"Of course-" Takeshi paused, listening closely to the Civic. "Is that…your engine?" he asked suddenly. He stared at the little liftback and started walking towards it, straining his ears for the slightest sound. Shingo interposed himself between the advancing driver and his car.

"It's nothing," he said defensively.

"Yes it is, I heard something! Your car is…laughing? Wait…you didn't!" Takeshi's attention transferred from the hood of the car to the passenger cabin. Small hands waved at him through the glass. "You…you did!" He gaped.

"Children don't belong here, they're going to get run over! Are you stupid?"

"You said I had to be here, what else was I supposed to do?" Shingo shouted hotly.

"That's the dumbest excuse I've ever heard! You could have just told me you had other engagements."

"You didn't give me a chance!"

"Of course I did! You told me you were busy, you moron!"

"I was!"

Takeshi clamped his mouth shut and shoved his hands into his pockets, afraid he would throttle the driver to death if he didn't_. Too many witnesses_. Appealing or not, Shingo was irritating as piss!

"You are…the most…insufferable person..!" he couldn't even finish the thought, he was so angry. He forced himself to calm down.

"What were you going to do, just force them to sit in there all night? And don't even tell me you were going to try to hide them from me!"

"Of course not! That would be stupid."

"Yes, which is why I fear that's what you were thinking of doing!"

"What? Are you calling me stupid?"

"If the shoe fits!" Takeshi shouted in English, a language that he was fairly proficient with, but he knew Shingo was not.

"What did you call me? Don't start that gaijin shit with me! I swear…"

They continued to argue pointlessly, slinging vituperative remarks at one another. At 8:30pm, the rest of the Night Kids converged on the gallery, huddling in a far corner like a flock of lost sheep. Under the dim glow of the street lamps, they whispered conspiratorially, occasionally casting furtive glances in the direction of the bickering drivers.

"Is it always like this?" Akio asked, staring at them wide-eyed. Once in awhile, he would wince at a particularly cutting slur. The rest of them looked pityingly on the newest member of their team.

"Yeah. This isn't even that bad," said Tetsuhiko, shaking his head.

"Yeah, this is nothing. Once they got into a fistfight, and-" Genji stopped when Tetsuhiko shot him a warning glance.

"Don't think too badly of them. It's fine when there's only one, or the other. It's only when they get together that shit like this happens." Tetsuhiko shrugged. "Shingo hasn't even been to a meet in quite awhile."

"Who can blame him? Takeshi's always breathin' down his neck," Michio grumbled from the back of the group.

"No way! He's never like that with anyone else. It must be Shingo!" Genji leapt to Takeshi's defense.

"Hey! Let's not start that again! Taking sides is futile. We're all on the same team, we should try to act like it!" the 180sx driver scolded. "Now let's not waste-" he broke off as they heard the rumble of approaching cars. "What the hell?"

Around the corner came a veritable cavalcade, all bearing the emblem of the RedSuns. The Myogi team gaped in surprise. The entourage of cars came to a stop near the astonished, previously arguing pair of drivers, and several of the RedSuns exited their cars. Takeshi spotted the Takahashi brothers silhouetted against the bright beams of the leading Mazda's pop-up headlamps. There was someone else with them, a guy he didn't recognize who apparently drove an orange S14. He resisted the urge to laugh. As far as he was concerned, people who painted their cars ridiculous colors didn't deserve his respect. And that included the irritating yellow FD driver who was currently advancing upon him. He tried not to look as pissed as he felt. _Clowns!_

"What fresh hell is this?" Shingo muttered under his breath; Takeshi caught it, and shot him a warning glance.

"Be civil!" he ordered.

"I can be Civic!"

"No, not-"

"Is this a bad time?" one of the Takahashis interrupted calmly. Takeshi was glad it was the other one, the one who didn't drive the ridiculous car, who spoke. Otherwise, he wasn't sure he could have held his rage in check.

"Anytime is a bad time!" snapped the short-tempered Honda driver. He received a dirty look from Takeshi.

"What do you want?" Takeshi queried icily, looking the RedSuns team leader up and down with obvious disdain.

"You needn't be hostile. We didn't come here for a fight."

"Then why are you here?" He struggled to keep the exasperation out of his voice, but didn't quite succeed.

"We came to discuss a certain hachiroku, I think you know the one," replied the FC driver.

"You don't have to tell me, I was there." Takeshi flicked a not-so-subtle glance in the younger Takahashi's direction. _What's his name again? Ken…no, Kei…Keisuke, that's it._

Shingo outright snickered, and Takahashi Keisuke bristled like a dog on the attack. _Serves that cocky bastard right_.

"So? What about the hachiroku?"

"Whatever you think you know about this guy, you have no idea," warned the older Takahashi ominously. "I wouldn't challenge him, if I were you."

"Why not?" Takeshi was starting to get a little suspicious. This reeked of a RedSuns plot.

"You know as well as I do that Takumi is a master of the drift technique. I would think a proponent of grip style like yourself would be interested in proving once and for all which of the styles is the better," the FC driver explained glibly. This was true…it was a good opportunity to show off the true power of his AWD Nissan Skyline GT-R R32.

"I'd win," Takeshi replied arrogantly.

"Don't be too sure of that. Keisuke's FD3S far outclassed that hachiroku, but Takumi still beat him…twice." Keisuke colored slightly at the mention of his embarrassing losses.

Takeshi's eyes narrowed. He had personally seen the hachiroku in action, and the driver had pulled off some interesting tricks. But despite the fact that he considered the hachiroku a worthy adversary, it didn't particularly worry him. A hachiroku was a hachiroku, and it was nothing compared to his GT-R. No matter how good the driver, a car has its limits. Clown or not, how could that Keisuke be defeated by this hachiroku? It made no sense. Finally, he gave in to his curiosity.

"How could you possibly lose?" he asked in disbelief.

For the first time, Keisuke spoke up to answer for himself. "It's not as simple as it seems. This goes beyond weight to power ratios, torque and horsepower. I can't explain it, but that 86, it's unreal. You think you can do better? Go ahead and try. It'll sail right by you in the third hairpin as if you were just crawling along in 2nd."

"Oh, right," scoffed Shingo. "A mystical hachiroku flying down Mt. Akina like a ghost. Any more bedtime stories, sempai?"

"I don't think you should race that 86. You would lose," Ryousuke stated flatly. He stared straight at Takeshi, completely ignoring Shingo's caustic and inflammatory remarks.

Takeshi glowered back.

"We'll decide our own battles, who we'll race and who we won't. Just because you lost, doesn't mean we can't win. So stop wasting our time."

"Have it your way. But remember, we did warn you."

The RedSuns spun on their heels and returned to their idling cars.


	5. Chapter 5

Part V

Three seconds later, an outraged shout turned everyone's head.

"Oh my god, my car! Wh-what are you doing?" cried the orange S14 driver. "Get off!" Shingo's heart froze mid-beat. _Oh no, not now, please say it's not her. _He ran in the direction of the chaos, and found a raging freak yelling at his little sister while she sat on the road and cried.

"What the hell did you do to her?" he snarled, snatching her off the ground and handing her to Ryosei, who had also come running at the sound of the commotion.

"Do to her? Look what she did to my car!" One glance at the bright orange auto revealed that there was absolutely nothing wrong with it. The dam of Shingo's self-control cracked under the strain and a raging torrent of sarcasm spewed forth.

"CAR? Is that what you call that monstrosity? It looks like someone puked an orange ice-cream bar on a go-kart. Where do you buy something like that, Toys R Us? How many little kids did you have to fight off before you got it? Hey, why orange? Why not pink? Wouldn't that suit you better, something decked out in Sanrio? Or better yet, why not-"

At that point, the S14 driver slugged him. Thankfully, the guy was so small that it hardly hurt. But he would make his hurt. He hurled himself at his opponent, knocking him to the ground with the full intention of beating him to within an inch of his life. But, before he could do much damage at all, he felt rough hands haul him off the now cowering driver. Tetsuhiko and Genji were holding onto him as a precautionary measure while the younger Takahashi was similarly restraining the other driver. He shrugged them off angrily, crossed his arms, and scowled at the S14 driver. Now that he was safely in the arms of his mentor, the insolent bastard sneered arrogantly back at Shingo.

"What happened?" demanded Nakazato in a voice that made everyone shut up and listen.

"That little brat was climbing on my car!" the S14 driver shouted. Then, glaring at Shingo, "And that asshole nearly broke my nose!"

"Kenta, was there actually any damage done to your car?" asked the elder Takahashi coldly.

"Of course there was! That is, I think so…I don't know, for sure, but…" Kenta spluttered.

"Keisuke, go look," he ordered his brother. "And what did you do to her, Kenta?"

"Nothing! She slid off when she saw me coming, and just started crying."

"You're lying!" Shingo exploded.

"I am not!" cried Kenta defensively. Shingo took a threatening step towards him. Kenta frantically looked around for Keisuke, but the bleached-blond driver was nowhere in sight. He swallowed nervously and took an involuntary step backwards. "I didn't do anything, I swear! You can ask her yourself, if you want!"

"That's not necessary. I believe you," said the Night Kids team leader wearily. Shingo gave him a nasty look just before Keisuke appeared, jogging up to them breathlessly.

"I don't see anything obvious. It's kinda dark out, though," he reported.

"I think they're both fine. And you!" The FC driver glared at Shingo. "Children do not belong here."

"Neither do you," Nakazato leaped to his defense, much to Shingo's surprise. The short, dark-haired man narrowed his eyes at Takeshi, then ordered his team to return to their cars.

"We won't forget this," he hissed before climbing into his FC.

"Neither will we," replied Nakazato, and Shingo could tell the other guy had heard him. He stared at Takeshi in confusion. _First he sides against me, then he defends me... _

The RedSuns executed perfectly timed J-turns in succession and sped off in the direction from which they came, disappearing as suddenly as they had appeared. Nothing but empty air and a cloud of dust remained in their stead.

Nakazato turned to his flock of team members, and took in the varying degrees of shock and outrage on their faces.

"Are you really going to challenge that 86?" Tetsuhiko asked incredulously. The other team members shuffled about restlessly.

"Of course!" The GT-R driver crossed his arms defiantly.

"Do you think there's any truth to what they said?" Genji looked uneasy. The rest of them scuffed their shoes despondently.

"About that 86? Who knows? But if we don't do anything, it'll look like we're afraid of that delivery boy and his tofu mobile."

"That's not fair, though!" someone complained from the back of the group.

"Nakazato Takeshi doesn't back down from a battle. Besides, I'm not going to be beaten by some stupid hachiroku. Short of it growing wings, I doubt it can beat my GT-R. This will just be an excellent opportunity to show those arrogant Takahashis what fools they are."

"Yeah!" several team members cheered. Takeshi smiled at them confidently.

"We'll just have to practice harder from now on; we'll show them the Night Kids are nothing to be scoffed at. But tonight, I think we've all had enough. Go home, get some rest. We'll start first thing next week. Alright?"

The members of the team nodded, and the meeting broke up. Their voices echoed in the still night as they bade each other a good night, and dispersed to their automobiles. Takeshi turned around to scan the area.

"Shingo!" he called over the sounds of engines roaring to life. In a few swift strides, he was standing next to the EG-6, where Shingo was still fussing over his sister.

"Is she ok?" he asked, peering at her concernedly. She was perched on the hood of the car looking shaken, but otherwise unharmed.

"Yeah, I think so," replied Shingo, raking a hand through his hair in what Takeshi suddenly realized was a nervous gesture. _Damn fine_, his brain remarked, and he hastily shoved the thought away.

"Just scared, huh?" he addressed the girl instead, patting her head affectionately. She nodded tearfully.

"But there's one thing I don't get…where were you?" Takeshi asked the young boy, who suddenly looked like he wanted to disappear into the ground.

"Well…uh, I mean…everyone was so busy talking to those guys, I thought it'd be ok if I went and…uh…looked at your cars," Ryo finished, flushing red and staring abjectly at his shoes.

Nakazato cracked a grin at the squirming boy. "And what did you think of them?" he asked, unable to hide his amusement.

The boy looked up in surprise. "Uh, well, they were ok, I guess. I really liked that Skyline GT-R, though. I wonder if it's V-spec? And black is such a cool color, too!" Ryo gushed.

Takeshi grinned, stepping aside so the boy could see the only other car besides the Civic that was still in the Gallery. Ryo's eyes widened, sparkling with interest.

"Wow! Can I see the inside? Oh please, please?" he begged. Shingo frowned.

"It's getting late…" he began only to be interrupted from an unexpected source.

"All wheel drive R32," Miki burbled, beaming and looking exceedingly pleased with herself.

Takeshi's mouth hung open for the second time that night. Shingo looked similarly shocked.

"Here," Takeshi offered, unlocking the car with his keyless remote entry. The car blipped and they heard the dull chunk of the power locks sliding back. "You can take a quick look, but don't…touch anything."

Ryosei and Miki took one look at each other, and dashed off to the other side of the Gallery. The two drivers watched them climb into the car, chattering excitedly.

"You have totally rubbed off on those children," Takeshi smirked.

"Well, I…didn't mean to," Shingo mumbled, running a hand through his long hair.

"You probably shouldn't have done that…now they'll think they can do that to just anyone."

"Oh, I'm sure it's fine." Takeshi pulled a pack of smokes out of his pocket and shook one out.

Shingo leaned against the driver's side door of his car and pulled out one of his own. They lit up and toked companionably, once in awhile batting at the moths that flew around them, attracted to a nearby street lamp.

"You know Nakazato, you're not half as much of an asshole as I thought you were," he commented, exhaling a stream of smoke and smirking arrogantly.

"Hmph. And you, are every bit as irritating as I thought you were," countered Takeshi, grinning.

"Yeah, just so we've got it straight," he joked. "Seriously though, what do you think those Takahashis came here for? Why on earth would they want to warn us about that 86?"

"Those manipulative bastards were trying to make sure we challenged Fujiwara."

"Why would they want to do that?"

"At first I wasn't sure, but I think I've figured it out. They're trying to turn this hachiroku into a struggle for power between the RedSuns and the Night Kids."

"But their little scheme only works if you lose. They must think a lot of that hachiroku."

"Or they think very little of me."

"But that's ridiculous…a GT-R against an old 86? Even if they thought you were the most incompetent driver in Gunma, that's still a pretty steep advantage."

"I'm not as stupid as they think I am. No hachiroku can beat me."

Shingo frowned doubtfully, staring at the grubby concrete as if it held all the answers.

"Still…"

Takeshi felt drawn to the arrogant driver as he watched him chew on his lip, deep in thought as if he were solving the mysteries of the universe. He looked positively delectable in the ambient illumination of the street lamp several meters away. _I wonder if he'd let me…_

Without thinking, he reached up and tucked a stray lock of Shingo's hair behind his ear. The man stiffened, his head snapping up in shock. _Nope…he's going to kill me. _Takeshi immediately withdrew his hand, and backpedaled furiously. _Stupid, impulsive, idiotic…_

"Uh…" he began lamely, his mind racing to come up with an excuse, "you should cut your hair." _Pathetic._

He vigorously flicked the ashes from his cigarette to cover his embarrassment.

Shingo blinked at him stupidly, and Takeshi could almost hear the gears turning in his head, complete with the groaning of synchros.

"I never really…thought about it," he replied, after a rather significant pause. The driver's eyes darted about nervously, and he looked about as uncomfortable as Takeshi felt. "Does it…bother you?"

"Not really." Takeshi felt as if somewhere in the universe, something had gone terribly awry. The fact that he was still intact and unhurt was testimony to that. Shingo didn't even look angry; he just looked…unsettled. His sense of foreboding was increased by the eerily strained yet nonviolent conversation that they were having. He tried to smile, but frowned instead, and then ended up going with what he was most comfortable with…a glare. Shingo, for his part, was staring fervently at a piece of paper that was fluttering around the empty lot. Thinking that perhaps this was the calm before the storm, Takeshi decided to quit while he was ahead.

"Listen, it's getting late, and I'm sure those kids should get to bed. So, I guess I'll see you next week?"

"Uh, yeah, sure."

"Good. See you, then." Takeshi turned and started walking back to his GT-R, curiously elated yet relieved to be getting away from the uncomfortable situation.

"Hey, Takeshi?" Shingo called uncertainly after him. He paused, mid-stride. "Thanks for…you know."

"No problem," he answered over his shoulder. He flicked the last of his cigarette away and continued walking. The burning ember hit the concrete several paces away; it glowed briefly, then faded to gray with a graceful wisp of smoke.

When he reached his car, he let the children out. They thanked him profusely, and he said goodnight to them. Takeshi started his car as the hollow thunk of doors closing echoed across the parking lot. _'Takeshi'…not 'Nakazato'_. He smirked in the dark as the black Nissan slid out of the Gallery and into the night.


	6. Chapter 6

Interlude

"Aniki, do you think they fell for it?"

Keisuke was lying on his stomach on his brother's bed, chin resting in his hands as his legs lazily kicked the air behind him. The distracted reply came from behind the computer.

"Hmm…of course."

"Really? Even that nasty Civic boy?"

He plucked a magazine from the nightstand and leafed idly through it, stopping every once in awhile to stare at a picture or two.

"Yes. Don't forget to make sure Fujiwara accepts their challenge."

"I won't. But, you're sure they'll issue a challenge?"

Keisuke yawned and stretched to the clacking of keys. Tossing the magazine to the floor, he burrowed under the comforter.

"Oh, they will. They practically have to now."

"Oh, ok."

"And Keisuke?"

"Unh?"

"Speaking of nasty Civic drivers, please do something about that Nakamura. We just can't take him anywhere."

"Yes, Aniki. Goodnight." He yawned again and snuggled deeper under the covers.

Ryousuke peeked out from behind his computer and shook his head at the sight.

"Goodnight."


	7. Chapter 7

Part VI

As fate would have it, they did not have a practice meet the next weekend, or even the weekend after.

Shingo knelt on the cold concrete, running his hand tenderly over the Civic's injured flank. The red paint had curled up at the edges of the deep gouges that ran the length of the passenger side of his car. But it was more than cosmetic damage…there was also a serious crunch in the front end, and the radiator was leaking fluid all over the road. The repairs were going to be expensive.

He was still shaking from the near-death experience and his wrist throbbed painfully, but predictably he was more concerned about the car than he was about himself. He held back tears as he circled the car, assessing the damage that he himself had caused. Shattered plastic from the head and taillight covers crunched underfoot while the Civic's hot engine ticked accusingly at him as it cooled.

"I'm such an asshole. What was I thinking?" he muttered disconsolately. He had been so sure that he would win the death match that the possibility that he might lose never even crossed his mind. And when he'd seen that stupid AE86 pass him by and drift perfectly through yet another corner, he'd lost it. Things that had seemed like good ideas only moments before made him cringe with shame now that his feet were firmly on the ground.

Bumper nudging was not a new activity for him, but he couldn't believe he'd actually tried to kill both himself and the 86. A cool gust of wind whipped down the mountain making him shiver against the chill. He swept a hand through his hair, still damp with sweat, as he chewed his lip thoughtfully. What was he going to do? Things seemed impossibly dismal.

And then he saw twin lights in the distance, approaching at a rapid rate. A two-toned S13 sailed around the corner and came to a stop a few meters from his car. He hastily wiped away the tears that had gathered behind his eyes with the back of his hand. As the car's occupants stepped out, he recognized the Speedstars team leader and his second in command. This was just what he needed, to be seen by the Speedstars in his moment of ultimate humiliation. Guilt, shame, and resentment fought for dominance in a mind clouded by fatigue and shock.

"Are you alright?" Iketani asked.

Shingo bit his lip and turned away, afraid they would see the raw emotions that he was trying so hard to conceal. The two of them tried to cajole him into going with them to the hospital.

"Thanks, I appreciate it," he mumbled rather reluctantly. Iketani nodded approvingly.

"He's incredible. Who is that hachiroku driver anyway?"

"He's our friend," Iketani replied proudly.

"Ah." Suddenly, he decided against going with the Speedstars. _After tonight, that hachiroku driver must really hate me. And if they're his friends, then they must too. Nothing is worse than accepting charity from your enemies._ "This is too much. I don't need to go to the hospital. A phone call is enough."

"But…" the second driver began before Iketani stopped him.

"We understand. I'll call the towing service as soon as we get back."

The S13 eased onto the road and sped off into the night, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

He sat heavily on the concrete, staring dazedly at the road. There was nothing to do but wait. He sighed and shivered against the cold, wondering what his teammates would say…what Takeshi would say.

Ever since their conversation in the cafe, Shingo had tacitly avoided the Night Kids leader. He had been floored by Nakazato's defeat; even the rapport that they had built the weekend of the RedSuns visit could not stop the outpouring of his scorn. And now, after all the things he'd said to Takeshi, he too had lost to the 86.

Just when he thought that it couldn't get any worse, he heard the low rumble of an approaching vehicle. His heart sank as a black Skyline flew around the corner and slowed to a stop.

Dust billowed dramatically in the GT-R's headlights as its owner stepped from behind the wheel. This was just what he needed…an "I told you so" and a lecture, compliments of Nakazato Takeshi. He stood and crossed his arms, trying to compose himself and prepare for the inevitable denunciations.

"Are you alright?" Takeshi asked, concern written all over his face. Shingo stiffened as Nakazato grabbed his shoulders firmly and examined him for injuries. He roughly shoved him away, knowing that his hastily erected mask of nonchalance would never stand up to such close scrutiny.

"I'm fine, nice of you to care," he sneered acidly.

"Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure!" he bit off. "So come on, why don't you just say it?"

"Say what?" asked Takeshi quietly.

"Say what you came here to say! 'You're reckless, you're arrogant, you're stupid, I knew this would happen,' whatever! Just get it over with so I can go home!" he ranted, the bravado covering up the gaping wounds in his pride. To his surprise, Nakazato didn't shout back. In fact, he didn't act much like a person who had come to rub it in. Instead, he heaved a sigh and started speaking softly, almost soothingly. Guilt gnawed at the edges of Shingo's conscience.

"I didn't come here to say any of that."

"Then why did you come here? If you're looking for an apology, you can forget it!"

"I came to see that you weren't hurt…"

"Well, I'm fine!" he snapped. "So just leave!"

"…and I came to give you a ride."

"Wh-what?" He had been prepared for a lecture. At least then he could have fended off Nakazato's attacks with smug, sarcastic retorts. But Takeshi was being _nice_.

"Why are you being so nice to me all of a sudden? What about all that shit I said about you?"

"Would you prefer that I repeat it back to you? I could, but I would have thought you'd had enough for one night."

"I…I…" He felt the walls of his defenses crumbling against the unexpected onslaught. At least an angry Takeshi would have been familiar…but this, this _compassion_ was almost more than he could handle.

"Come on, Shingo. Where's your cell phone? Did you call the tow truck?"

"I left my phone at home, but don't worry, those meddlesome Speedstars stopped by. Said they'd call the towing service when they got back."

"Alright, then I'll wait with you. You can't stop me, it's a public road, eh?"

"Do what you want," he snarled before turning and walking away from Takeshi.

* * *

Shingo watched as the tow truck parked his battered Civic in the autobody shop's lot. He wrote a quick note on the back of a crumpled receipt he had found in the glove compartment. The message said that he would call them first thing Monday morning, and it was signed with his name and phone number. He deftly slipped it beneath one of the EG-6's windshield wipers. Then he ran his hand lovingly over an undamaged section of the hood, staring for one endless moment at his pride and joy, and apologized. It was nothing more than a wordless expression of regret, but it was heartfelt. And whether the apology was to the car, Takumi, Takeshi, or himself didn't really matter. He heaved a dejected sigh, tearing his gaze away from the obscene visage of his savaged auto.

When the tow truck finally left, Takeshi turned to him.

"Come on, Shingo, I'll give you a ride home. It's better than walking to the train station." A stiff breeze sliced through their thin clothing, making them both shiver. "Besides, it's getting a little cool out here."

Shame and guilt finally crushed the remaining shreds of resentment that were bolstering his defenses. He simply couldn't keep up the charade any longer. The sooner he got home and buried his head under the covers, the better. He shrugged.

"Good. Let's go."

Carefully, he climbed into the GT-R's passenger seat and closed the door, snapping on the safety belt. He closed his eyes, trying to estimate how much the repairs would cost and wondering whether or not it was worth the increase in his insurance rate to report the accident. He jumped suddenly as Takeshi touched his shoulder. They hadn't moved; the Skyline was still idling in the car park.

"Where do you live?" Takeshi asked, regarding him with a worried expression. Shingo started guiltily.

"Oh…yeah." That was something he hadn't thought of. In order to take him home, Nakazato would have to see where he lived. He wanted to cry…hadn't he suffered enough? He didn't think he could stand it if he had to see that look of disdain on Nakazato's face when he saw his cramped, messy, one room flat. But he had already agreed to this, and there was no backing out of it now. Grimly, he gave the directions to his flat.

"Ok," Takeshi replied simply and eased out of the lot. Shingo was surprised he didn't make any comments on the area, or the neighborhood. Well, if they didn't come now, they would certainly come later.

* * *

As Takeshi drove, he kept glancing at the person occupying his passenger seat. Shingo looked terrible. He had never seen anyone look so defeated. The EG-6 driver was unconsciously shaking, and staring out the window with a stricken expression. It was obvious that Shingo's pride was crushed. When Takeshi had lost to the 86, he had taken it with a certain amount of grace. Fujiwara had been a worthy adversary, and the battle had taught him a lot about himself. No, what had hurt the most was not his defeat, but Shingo's ridicule.

He wondered why he was here now, helping the one person who had actually kicked him when he was down. He should be angrily denouncing the arrogant driver, not generously chauffeuring him around. But as much as Shingo deserved it, Takeshi wasn't going to do it. He just didn't have the heart to rip into him, especially when he already looked like a kicked and beaten dog. Besides, he didn't want to be resented; he wanted to be accepted. _And maybe even…no. _He stopped himself short. It didn't make sense to allow hope for reciprocity when mere acceptance came so hard. _Best to be content taking what's given._

Shingo watched dismally as road signs whizzed by the racing GT-R. Regret sat like a stone in his chest and he bit his lip against each fresh surge of guilt. _I swaggered around bragging like an arrogant jerk. I damaged that 86, and I fucked up my EG-6; I nearly killed us both. All that and I /still/ lost. I laughed at Takeshi when he lost, and to top it all off, instead of kicking my ass like he should, he's actually being nice to me. I am the biggest asshole in the history of Japan. Nakazato shouldn't be taking me home; he should be dumping me in the river. _

He cast a sidelong glance at Nakazato just to make sure that he really wasn't about to be taken somewhere and dumped. Nakazato looked tense, but not murderous. And when he noticed that all the road signs seemed to indicate that they were heading in the right direction, guilt made him wonder if he should be relieved or disappointed. _I have to apologize. I can't just sit here like an idiot._

"Hey, Na-Takeshi?" he winced at the uncertainty in his voice.

"Ah?" Takeshi replied, glancing briefly at him before returning his attention to the road.

"You…remember that stuff I said…about you?"

Takeshi frowned and Shingo was hurled back into the bucket seat as the GT-R rocketed down the road.

"You mean that I drive like a girl, no offense to Impact Blue?" Takeshi asked tersely.

"Uh…yeah…among other things." The seatbelt tightened constrictively around him as the GT-R slingshot around a curve and just managed to run a yellow light.

"I'm…I'm sorry. About…you know, all that…stuff." He imagined he probably looked about as sheepish as one could, short of being a sheep.

Takeshi slowed to a stop for the next yellow light, thankfully.

"You are?" he asked skeptically, glaring at Shingo from his side of the car.

"Yes."

Takeshi's eyes narrowed.

"YES! Really, what the hell do you want me to say?" Shingo winced slightly when the light turned and Takeshi slammed the car into gear.

After a long pause, and a little more maniacal driving, Takeshi answered,

"I accept your apology."

He heaved a small sigh of relief, noticing for the first time how tense he had been. Forcing himself to relax, he wiggled his stiff shoulders around.

"What's wrong with you?" Takeshi eyed him sharply.

"I think you gave me whiplash."

"What?" the driver snapped, slamming on the brakes and coming to a screeching halt just inches from rear ending the Toyota in front of them. The force of the braking car flung him against the safety belt. _Shit, Brembo four wheel disc, nice!_

"I'm kidding, it's a joke!" Shingo waved his hands defensively.

"Not funny," Takeshi growled.

"Ok, ok, sorry." He slunk down in his seat and clamped his mouth shut before he said anything else that might get him more seatbelt bruises, or dumped on the side of the road for that matter.


	8. Chapter 8

Part VII

Shingo's stomach twisted anxiously as Nakazato slid the Nissan smoothly into a parking space. _Should I ask him up? I just want to be alone, and I know he'll say something about the mess. But…it would be rude not to mention ungrateful not to._ He tugged nervously on a few strands of hair.

"Eh, did you want to come up, or something?" _Please just go home._

"I should probably go home…" _Yes!_ "…but I can come up for a second." _Noooo!_

Much to his dismay, Takeshi shut off the RB26DETT engine and exited the car, following him into the building. At his door, Shingo picked through his keys until he found the right one. He opened the weathered door for Takeshi, and held his breath as the Myogi driver stepped inside. He saw his place through the eyes of a stranger, and suddenly realized why his mother was always so adamantly after him to clean it up. Except for a bathroom and a tiny kitchenette, there was only one room. His bed was shoved against the far wall, and doubled as both a bed and a couch. And except for the bed and the little cart that contained his small TV and VCR, there was no furniture. Instead, there were boxes that served as tables and stands. In the center of the room sat the "coffee table", covered in stacks of empty beer cans. Car magazines, videotapes, and empty CD cases lay scattered over the floor along with occasional heaps of laundry.

"I didn't realize you lived alone," Takeshi commented, a slight smile curving his lips.

Shingo exhaled explosively. It was a far cry from the snide remarks he had anticipated. _Well, that wasn't so bad. It wasn't bad at all, in fact_. His anxiety dropped down to a manageable level.

"Uh, yeah. I moved out, a while ago." He suddenly realized that they were still standing in the doorway. "You can sit, if you can find the bed. Do you…want a drink?"

Shingo watched apprehensively as the driver moved some things aside and sat gingerly on the bed. Takeshi picked up an empty beer can off the "coffee table" and shook it in his direction.

"This'll be fine."

He grabbed a couple cans out of the fridge while Takeshi flipped on the TV and lit up a cigarette. He joined him on the bed and likewise lit up. They smoked and drank in silence, watching a recap of the day's sporting events. Shingo leaned back against the wall and took a long drag on his cigarette, feeling the tension ebb from his muscles. Now that the initial shock of the accident had worn off, he was starting to think clearly again.

He noticed he'd even stopped shaking some time ago. Exhaling a long stream of smoke, he glanced at Nakazato. The driver was leaning against the wall next to him, casually drinking and puffing away. Hoping he wouldn't notice, Shingo set his beer down on a box and began to tenderly probe his right wrist. It had been throbbing rather painfully, but he'd been too preoccupied to notice. Now that he was more relaxed, however, the pain was pushing itself to the forefront of his attention. He made a fist and winced.

"What are you doing?" Nakazato asked sharply, sitting up and peering at him.

"Uh…" he flushed in embarrassment. "Nothing…"

"What's wrong with your hand?"

"Nothing."

"Let me see," Takeshi demanded.

Shingo frowned warily at him. "It's fine."

"You don't know that! Just let me look at it."

"It's probably just sprained. You know, gumtape and all," he muttered.

Takeshi glared at him angrily.

"Fine," he capitulated, allowing the Myogi team leader to take his arm. Nakazato carefully examined his wrist, flexing it slightly forwards and backwards.

"Does that hurt?"

"Only when you do…THAT!" Shingo jumped as Takeshi bent his wrist sharply back.

"Sorry," Nakazato apologized, looking slightly abashed. Shingo might have laughed at the sight, if he hadn't been in so much pain. He glared and started to pull his arm away, but Takeshi's grip tightened.

"Wait, I won't do it again."

Takeshi must have seen his doubtful expression, because he added, "I promise!"

Slowly, he re-extended his arm. _What the hell is he being so nice to me for anyway? It's not like I deser- ooo._

Shingo bit his lip to keep from gasping. Takeshi was running his fingers lightly over the inside of his wrist. He looked up in surprise, and wondered if Takeshi knew that he was causing him to tingle from the contact point to the base of his spine. But one glance at Takeshi's intense expression revealed that the Myogi leader was only trying to help. He flushed with embarrassment. _Why am I reacting like this? He's not doing it on purpose. And besides, __he's Nakazato Takeshi__!_

Takeshi looked up from his hand and smiled at him. Shingo gawked speechlessly.

_Not that he isn't damn hot. _

"It's sprained pretty badly. Maybe you should put some ice on it_?"_

_His looks have nothing to do with this! And I definitely shouldn't be noticing them. Besides, even if I'm into him, which I'm not, he certainly wouldn't be interested in guys, least of all me._ A pang of disappointment shot through him. _I'm not disappointed, I am /not/!_

"Hello?"

"What?" asked Shingo, snapping back to reality. "What'd you say?"

"Uh…I said you should put ice on it."

"On what?"

"Your wrist!" Takeshi snorted in exasperation. "Are you feeling alright? Did you hit your head on the steering wheel or something?"

"Uh, no. I mean, yes. Uh, I mean…yes, I'm alright, and no, I didn't hit my head, at least, I don't think so…that is..." Shingo gibbered.

He was too flustered to finish a complete sentence; he found that he couldn't even look Takeshi in the eye.

Takeshi placed a hand tentatively on his knee, and his pulse immediately shot up. _What's wrong with me?_

"Let me get you some ice," Takeshi offered, getting up and heading for the kitchen. Shingo watched him dig in the freezer with appreciation.

"Nice rear wheel drive," Shingo muttered.

"What?" Takeshi called from the kitchen.

"Er…" he flushed. "Nothing."

Takeshi returned with a handful of ice wrapped in a paper towel. He sat down and took Shingo's hand in his, placing the ice on his wrist.

"Here. At least this will keep the swelling down. Tomorrow you should wrap it, and I don't mean with gumtape!"

Shingo nodded distractedly, his attention still held by the way Takeshi's clothes slid over his skin. _Ok, so maybe I am a little interested. He's right, I must have hit my head during the accident. That's gotta be it._

"Are you hurt anywhere else?"

"I think you're right. I think I hit my head."

"Really?"

Takeshi frowned and casually swept Shingo's hair off his forehead to get a closer look. A strong feeling of déjà vu came over him as he remembered the last time this had happened. The other driver examined him carefully, moving his head from side to side to make sure he'd looked from all angles.

"I don't see anything," Takeshi concluded.

"But…I must have. Are you sure there's nothing?"

"Of course I'm sure…I'm not blind, you know. Why do you think you hit your head anyway? Earlier you told me you hadn't."

Takeshi leaned closer to look at him again. Shingo fidgeted uneasily…Takeshi was so near that he could feel his breath on his cheek.

"Because…" Impulsively, he closed the space between them and pecked Takeshi on the lips.

The GT-R driver blinked in shock, his mouth falling open. But he quickly recovered himself, and his face split into a giant grin of amusement.

"Aren't you mad?" Shingo blurted, astounded. Then he looked away uncomfortably, unsure of what to do with this can of worms he'd opened. _What the hell did you do that for? What if he's pissed…then what?_

"Oi, Shingo…"

"Huh?" he asked, looking up. Whereupon Takeshi grabbed his collar and yanked him into another kiss, one that lasted considerably longer than the first.

"I guess not," Shingo whispered breathlessly.

He wasn't sure what to make of all these new developments. Truth to tell, his head was spinning and his mind was mush. But he didn't care; he shut off his brain and simply allowed himself to feel; closing his eyes, he leaned in for another kiss. Takeshi responded enthusiastically, one hand entwined in his hair, the other caressing his back. He edged closer, wrapping his arms around Takeshi's neck. And then, unexpectedly, just when his head was starting to swim giddily, Takeshi pulled away. Shingo cocked his head in confusion, unspoken questions dancing in his eyes.

"I want you," Takeshi growled huskily.

"Want me to what?" Shingo asked, confused. Then he realized that here was the lecture at last. "You want me to stop running people off the road? You want me to leave the team? You want me to-

"I want YOU," Takeshi interrupted. Shingo's eyes widened.

"Oh." He flushed furiously when Takeshi's meaning dawned on him. And then a tiny spark of doubt fanned to life. "But…"

"Oh, just shut up!" Takeshi growled, grabbing his arm and pulling him into another passionate kiss. Shingo's burgeoning doubts were cut short by the mind-numbing intensity of that embrace. By the time the Skyline driver pulled back, he was panting excitedly.

"Do you know how sexy you are when you do that?" Takeshi whispered heatedly, nuzzling his ear.

"Do what?"

In response, Takeshi kissed him more fiercely, pushing him down onto the rumpled bed. He wanted to protest, having no idea that things would move this quickly. He was inexperienced, but he had some idea of what was coming, and he wasn't at all sure he was ready for it. But the last thing he wanted was for Takeshi to leave. All thought was cut short as Takeshi pressed searing kisses to his neck. He gasped, panting from the incredible sensations overwhelming him. It was too much, too fast. But he didn't care; he wanted Takeshi, and he didn't want to /think/ about it anymore. Once again allowing passion to override his overactive mind, he felt Nakazato straddle him and pull off his shirt. Opening his eyes, he found the GT-R driver staring down at him appraisingly. He suddenly felt very naked indeed. Maybe he shouldn't be doing this…

"Maybe…" he began.

"Shhh!" Takeshi bent down and kissed him hard, stifling any protest that he might have had. When they broke off, Takeshi slid Shingo's remaining clothes off, tossing them off the bed. Neither of them heard the slight clink of keys as his pants hit the floor. Takeshi shucked his clothes as well, his ever-present blue shirt joining Shingo's faded purple one on the floor. He felt strong hands caress his body as Takeshi's mouth assailed his neck and chest. Just as he was starting to thrash, he felt Takeshi slip a finger into him. Startled by the strange sensation, he stopped stock-still.

"Relax," Takeshi whispered, and he shivered as the warm breath tickled his ear. He forced himself to relax and before long, he was lost. He hardly noticed when Takeshi rolled him over. Takeshi took him hard, and he gritted his teeth, but a small whimper escaped him anyway. It didn't matter…soon he was rocking back as Takeshi drove into him, utterly immersed in the powerful sensations burning like liquid fire through his body. They climaxed in tandem, shuddering in ecstasy, and collapsed in a heap. Takeshi withdrew, and nuzzled his neck. And, with one arm clamped protectively around Shingo's waist, he fell asleep. For the younger man, sleep came a little harder. He wriggled uncomfortably on the bed, and tried to forget that he was lying on a big wet spot of his own making. Soon, however, the warmth of the body next to him, and the sheer exhaustion from the day finally caught up with him and he slipped into unconsciousness.


	9. Chapter 9

Part VIII

The ringing cell phone jarred Takeshi out of a deep sleep. He was momentarily disoriented by his surroundings. Then, he heard a soft snuffle and glanced down to see Shingo snuggled in his arms, sleeping soundly. He suddenly remembered the night before and grinned. Dislodging his arm carefully from where it was wrapped around his partner's waist, he got up and hunted around the floor for his pants. He found the ringing phone buried under a pile of clothes.

"Hello?" he asked groggily.

"Takeshi, where are you?" his father's voice crackled frantically through the earpiece. He winced and held the phone farther away from his ear.

"Uh…I'm at a friend's house. Why?"

"The headlights in the Datsun were left on last night, and now the car won't start. Can you come give us a jump?"

Takeshi glared at his watch. It was 8:00am on a Sunday morning.

"I suppose. How soon do I have to be there?"

"Now. I promised the guys I'd play a round of golf with them this morning, and they can't play with just three."

"Yeah, alright, I'll be there."

He hung up the phone. _'Were left on' indeed!_ He sat back down on the bed carefully and bent down to kiss Shingo softly on the forehead. Then he stood up and dressed, throwing his clothes on quickly. On the way out the door, he briefly contemplated leaving a note, but then decided he could probably call Shingo later when he rolled his lazy (but cute) ass out of bed. With one last rueful glance at the sleeping figure, he left the apartment, closing the door softly behind him

* * *

When Shingo woke, he was confused to find himself alone. He looked around briefly, but Takeshi was gone. He swallowed the bitter disappointment that surged up. He didn't want to feel abandoned, but it was difficult not to, given the circumstances. He rolled over and buried his head in the pillow, wondering if he should get up that day at all. He felt sore all over, and his wrist ached. He groaned. Just as he was finishing up a debate with himself over whether or not to sleep in, and had decided to sleep in, the phone rang. Flinging the covers off in disgust, he answered it.

"Shingo."

"Yo, Shingo, it's Michio. Let's have lunch."

"Now? I just woke up."

"Don't be so lazy. Get your ass out of bed and I'll be by to pick you up in 20 minutes."

"Fine, fine. But you're paying!"

"Oi, how come?"

"Because you woke me up!" Shingo growled, hanging up the phone.

Half an hour later, Shingo was sitting in a Vietnamese restaurant sloppily shoveling pho into his mouth. Michio sat across the table, watching with amusement as he tried, with a decided lack of coordination, to wield chopsticks with his wrapped hand.

"So what happened?"

"What do you mean?" Shingo asked, swallowing a mouthful of noodles.

"Last night, Takeshi told us all to go home. Said he'd go looking for you himself. Of course, we all figured he'd want to um, 'have a word with you' in private, so we scrammed. And today, you show up with a messed up hand." Michio leaned forward eagerly. "So, what happened?"

"Nothing happened. He took me home, that's all. The wrist thing is from the gumtape, steering wheel kickback, etc."

Michio's mouth dropped open.

"What do you mean 'that's all'? You two fight like animals, and after all that shit you said about him, you're telling me he didn't even take a swing at you?"

Shingo winced.

"Yeah, that's what I'm telling you. Besides, it's not so bad. We get along alright."

Michio snorted.

"What? You get along all right? Since when? Since you gave him a bloody nose and he gave you a concussion? Since then?"

"Shut up. That was different."

"Different? How is it any different now than it was then? Shingo, we had to take you to the hospital!"

"Oh come on, it wasn't that one-sided. I got some good hits in too!"

"That's not my point!" he sighed in exasperation. "Whatever. I guess I'm glad you two have kissed and made up."

Shingo recoiled in horror. "What? How did you-" he clamped his mouth shut as he suddenly realized that Michio was speaking figuratively.

"How did I what?"

"Uh, nothing. Hey, look at those girls over there!" He pointed, hoping Michio wouldn't notice the deliberate change of subject.

"Oh yeah, pretty cute," Michio said appraisingly.

"I like the one in the red…nice ass."

"You know, now that I think about it, I think I've seen them around before."

"You have? Where?"

"Hmm, I'm not sure, but they look like the ones that hang around the galleries during races. Actually, I'm sure of it! See that one in the blue skirt?"

"The one with the pigtails? Cute."

Michio snickered.

"Eh, you wouldn't want that one. You know what they say about used cars, you never know where they've been."

Shingo blinked in surprise.

"How would you know, Michi? You don't even know her!"

"Yeah, but I know for a fact that she's had at least one person on the team, if not more.'

"Who?"

"Nakazato Takeshi, of course!"

"S-say what?"

"Heh, don't look so shocked. Nakazato's famous, and he's good looking. You don't think those girls flock to the galleries to see the likes of us, do you? It's common knowledge that our vaunted leader, er, samples the fruits of his position, if you know what I mean."

Shingo watched in horror as the girls walked past them and out the door, giggling inanely all the while.

"Who else? How many more?"

"When did you get all interested in Takeshi's sex life, eh?" Michio teased.

"I-I'm not!" Shingo stuttered defensively. "I just…wondered, that's all."

"Well, I don't know who, or how many. But they say he's quite the player, lots of girls, different ones every week. Hell, I'd kill for a sex life like that!"

Shingo choked on his food, coughing violently and gulping down a glassful of water. Michio patted him in concern.

"Geez, you alright? You shouldn't eat so fast!"

"Yeah, I'm fine," he wheezed. "Let's just get outta here."

"Sure, anything you say. We can go back to my place and hook up with Keichi. He says he's installed a boost gauge."

"Ah, well, we'd better have a look at it then," he replied half-heartedly.

As the green Silvia edged it's way out of the parking lot and headed for the highway, Shingo's cell phone rang. He was about to answer when he saw the number that flashed across the LCD. A surge of irrational rage made him turn it off and shove it back into his pocket. He glared angrily out the window, unsure of what to do about the information he'd just acquired. _Takeshi you bastard…_

"Who was that?" Michio asked distractedly as he dodged his way through the midday traffic.

"No one important."

"Ahh."


	10. Chapter 10

Part IX

Takeshi slammed his house phone back into its cradle and stomped outside for a smoke and a breath of fresh air. It was the third time that day that he'd tried calling both Shingo's house line and cell phone, and gotten no answer. He didn't even want to count the number of times he'd tried calling in the last few days. _This is getting ridiculous! What did that moron do, die or something? Shit!_

He puffed angrily on his cigarette and scowled at his car. He was almost done with his smoke when an idea occurred to him. Suddenly moved to action, he tossed the remainder of the cigarette away and jumped into the GT-R. _He can't avoid me forever!_

The sleek Skyline pulled into the parking lot of the shabby apartment building and eased into a space. Takeshi leaped out of the car and literally ran up the five flights of stairs to Shingo's apartment.

"Shingo!" he yelled, pounding loudly on the door. "Shingo!"

The door failed to open, which threw Takeshi into a fit of rage fueled by days of pent-up frustration.

"Dammit! Fuck!" he shouted, and continued to beat and kick the door. "Shingo! Who do you think you are? You can't avoid me forever! I swear to god you better open this door before I fuck you up! Shingo! You hear me?"

"HEY! The dead could hear you!"

Takeshi's head whipped around to find Shingo's next door neighbor, a very scary (and angry) looking man, glaring at him.

"What the hell's your problem, man? If he ain't home, he ain't home!" the man drawled at him.

"He /is/ home! He's just purposely ignoring me!"

"No he ain't! He left for work twenty minutes ago."

Takeshi had been working himself up to a righteous wrath, but that put a rather abrupt stop to it, almost like cruising down the freeway at 100kph, and suddenly slamming to a halt for road construction.

"What? How do you know?"

"Because he goes to work at the same time every fuckin' day. Don't you know that? What kind of friend are you?"

Takeshi simply glared in response, the struggle to keep his imminent explosion in check obviously requiring too much effort for him to offer a verbal reply. The man continued, oblivious of the dangerous ground he was treading on.

"Besides, I heard him leave myself. These walls are like tissue…I can hear everything that goes on in that apartment." The man wriggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Takeshi paled.

"You just better remember that next time, young man. Love may be deaf, dumb, and blind, but the neighbors sure as hell ain't! Now pipe down before I call the cops!" And with that, the grizzled man slammed his door shut in Takeshi's face.

The Night Kids team leader blinked in surprise at the closed door, then his face flushed red with a mixture of embarrassment and unutterable fury.

"Shingo…you're gonna pay for this, you little weasel," he grumbled darkly as he stalked back to his car.

* * *

"You're coming!"

"No, I'm not! Leave me alone, Michi!" Shingo groused obstinately. He crossed to the kitchen and started to rummage around in the fridge.

"Shingo! You have to come to this meet! If you don't come, everyone will think you're too much of a coward to show your face. Do you really want that?"

"No," he muttered, retreating from the fridge with a can of iced coffee in hand. He sipped at the can moodily, glaring at the car keys on his counter. "I don't even have my car back. How can they expect me to be there?"

Michio sighed.

"You know full well that car or no, they'll be expecting you. If you don't show, you lose face. Why are you so stubborn anyway? It's not so bad. Just stick with me, and no one's gonna say anything."

"Yeah, but…" Shingo scowled. _Takeshi will say something_. He didn't want to have to explain to Michio that he had been actively avoiding Takeshi all week long, and that going to the meet would almost definitely lead to an undesired confrontation. Nor did he wish to explain why.

_Damn you, Nakazato, you could have warned me. If I'd known I meant nothing to you, I wouldn't have let it go so far. _

He crushed the empty aluminum can in his grip and threw it into the rubbish bin.

"Fine, let's go," he said grimly, snatching his keys off the counter and heading out the door.

* * *

Shingo puffed nervously on his cigarette, glancing around anxiously every few minutes to make sure Takeshi wasn't heading his way. In fact, the GT-R driver had been staring at him for most of the night, obviously trying to get his attention. But he had very carefully avoided eye contact with him. It had been fairly easy to ignore him because of the fact that Shingo was car-less. He had spent the evening practically glued to Michio, alternately sitting in his car, and sitting on it. The two of them had also been surrounded by other drivers, for the most part. But now that the meeting was breaking up, Shingo worried that Takeshi would find a way to corner him.

"Hey Michi, let's get outta here."

"Hang on, I want to check out Akio's new box."

Shingo sighed and was starting to follow the crowd heading towards Akio's thumping 180 when he was grabbed roughly from behind. He whirled around to find Nakazato Takeshi glowering at him from a distance of about three centimeters. His heart jumped into his throat as he looked around frantically for his friends. _Shit! Where'd he come from?_

"Bet you're wondering where I came from! I can't believe I had to sneak up on you just to get you to pay attention to me!" Takeshi jabbed a finger accusingly at him. "Now why are you avoiding me?"

"This is hardly the time!" Shingo hissed.

Takeshi snatched a fistful of his T-shirt and shook him violently.

"Don't fuck with me, Shouji, or I swear I'll beat you bloody!" Takeshi snarled. "Come here!" he demanded, dragging Shingo towards his car like a delinquent child.

"Hey, get your fucking hands off me!" Shingo cried indignantly.

"That's not what you were saying last weekend!" he growled, slamming Shingo against the Skyline. "Now talk!"

"You son of a bitch! What right do you have to get self righteous with me?"

"I have every right! One second everything's fine, and the next you're not answering my calls and you won't even look at me! Are you fucking toying with me, Shingo? Because I'm getting real sick of it."

"ME toying with YOU? Is that supposed to be a joke?"

"What in the hell are you talking about?"

"You _left_ me, Nakazato! And then I come to find out that apparently, you do this often, to a lot of different people! Now how the hell am I supposed to feel about that?"

"Hey! I had to leave; my parents had an emergency. And when I tried to tell you, you wouldn't answer your phone! So don't even blame that on me! And what the hell do you mean, I do this often? Do what?"

"Do what?" Shingo snorted. "Girls, guys, animals, anything that moves, whatever. I think the question here is, what don't you do?"

"Are you trying to say you think I sleep around?"

"You're so quick, no wonder they call you the Black Lightening!"

And with that, Takeshi punched him in the stomach. He went down like a sack of rocks and lay gulping like a landed fish on the ground at Takeshi's feet.

"You asshole! Who are you to judge me?" Takeshi's foot nudged him none too gently in the side.

"Shit Takeshi, that really hurt," he gasped.

A look of remorse briefly flitted across Takeshi's face to be replaced by one of defiance. He crossed his arms and glared.

"Alright, so I had a rash of short-term relationships. So what? That doesn't mean-"

"Short-term relationships? Give me a fucking break!" Shingo wheezed from his illustrious place on the ground.

"Alright, fine! They were lays, that what you want me to say? They were _fucks_ alright? That what you want to hear?" he exploded.

Using the car for support, Shingo hauled himself laboriously to his feet. He leaned heavily against the car and spent several moments catching his breath before continuing.

"Is that all I am to you? A cheap fuck?" he spat.

"What?" Takeshi's eyes went wide with astonishment.

Shingo ignored him and continued to rant,

"Because, I can understand if it was just a fling, or if you're slumming or something. But I just wish you would have told me, so I wouldn't have gotten so…" he trailed off, suddenly too embarrassed to continue.

"So what?" Takeshi prompted impatiently.

"…carried away," he finished wryly. He swept a hand through his hair and glanced briefly at Takeshi before looking away again.

Takeshi's burning rage melted into a quiet disappointment. Shingo flinched as Takeshi reached towards him, throwing his hands up reflexively. The GT-R driver ignored his reaction and cupped his cheek, gently turning his head so their eyes met.

"Is that all you really think of me?"

Shingo tore his gaze away from the disappointment in Takeshi's eyes. He wrenched himself free of the other driver's grasp and turned his back on him. Hands braced against the GT-R's pillars, he stared at his reflection in the driver's side window.

"I don't know what to think," he said at last.

"Did it ever occur to you to wonder why I kept trying to call, if I didn't care? Shit, Shingo, I even went to your apartment, but you weren't there."

"You…did?" A small seed of hope sprouted to life amidst the weeds of hurt and betrayal.

"Yes," Takeshi replied, sighing wearily. He moved so close that Shingo could feel his body heat through his thin T-shirt. "Shingo…those girls meant about as much to me as I did to them. You think they gave a shit about me? All they wanted were bragging rights. _Those_ were flings. This, you, are different." He shivered as Takeshi breathed the last in his ear, nuzzling his neck softly.

"Maybe that's true…" Shingo whispered gruffly.

"But?"

"But how do I know you're not lying?"

Takeshi sighed in exasperation.

"You don't."

Shingo turned around and cocked his head suspiciously.

"What?"

"I don't have any proof. You'll just have to trust me." Takeshi stared intently at him.

Silence.

"Well?"

"I…" Shingo looked away, staring at the moths that fluttered to the street lamps overhead. _He /did/ try to call…and he even came to see you…_ "suppose," he relented at last. Who would ever have thought he'd be putting his trust in Nakazato Takeshi, of all people? If someone had told him that a few months ago, he would probably have decked them. But somehow the shift was fitting. Somehow it felt…right.

Takeshi's lips twitched in amusement.

"Well, that sounded convincing."

Shingo stared at him in shock for a moment before he realized that Takeshi was joking. He smirked slightly.

Pulling Takeshi into his arms, he claimed his lips in a crushing kiss. He buried his hands in the GT-R driver's thick hair as Takeshi's tongue explored his mouth. Strong hands worked their way down his back to rest on his hips. Takeshi moaned softly against his lips. Shingo pulled away slightly to gaze into his endless eyes. "That convincing enough for you?" he murmured.

Takeshi smiled, his eyes shining faintly in the moonlight.

"Quite."

Shingo frowned.

"You give in too easily!" he teased. "I had so much more…"

The Nissan driver snorted and yanked him closer by his belt loops.

"So show me…"

The constant unnoticed background music stopped rather abruptly. In the ensuing silence,

"Yo, Shingo!" Michio shouted from across the gallery. The two drivers sprang apart guiltily and tried to act nonchalant.

"Yes?" Shingo gestured impatiently. "What?"

"Um, we're leaving. Don't you want a ride home?" asked Michio, squinting through the gloom at him. Thankfully, because of the Silvia driver's position under the bright street lamp, and their location in the more dimly lit section of the gallery, it was almost impossible for him to see anything more than their vague outlines. "Is everything ok?"

"Everything's fine," Takeshi answered in a tone of voice that can only be described as a verbal glare. "I'll take him home."

"Oh," the driver replied anxiously. "Uh, ok then. Bye, Shingo! Goodnight, Takeshi." He and the few Night Kids who were left in the gallery beat a hasty retreat.

"That was close!" Takeshi breathed.

Shingo sighed and affectionately nuzzled his neck.

"Hmm. Now, where were we?"

"I believe," Takeshi murmured, kissing him softly, "you were going to show me something."

Shingo smiled slyly.

"Oh…yeah…"


	11. Chapter 11

Part X

"Socket wrench," Shingo demanded, holding out his hand. The tool was handed to him after a moment's pause. "Now you see this nut here? It holds on the oil pan, so we gotta take it off."

"Oh, ok!" Ryo nodded enthusiastically. "Can I do it?"

"Sure," he shrugged, handing the tool to his brother and scooting out of the way. The two of them were lying under the EG-6 changing the oil filter. After a few tries, the young boy finally removed the metal pan, and proceeded to unscrew the bright orange filter. Shingo deftly shoved a pan underneath just as the torrent of nasty black oil gushed out.

"EeeeYA!" Ryo yelped as the hand that removed the filter was covered in oil. Shingo smirked.

"If you want to work on cars, you have to get dirty," he lectured.

Ryo shook his hand disgustedly and made a face. The Civic driver laughed.

"Come on, we'll let it drain. Miki? Where are the paper towels?"

A roll of paper towels appeared under the car and Shingo handed them to his brother before sliding out from underneath the EG-6.

"Thanks, Miki," he said, patting her affectionately on the head. She beamed proudly at him.

"'Nichan, what's this?" she asked, holding up a tool.

"Torque wrench," he told her.

"Ok!" she replied, curiosity apparently satisfied.

When the old oil had drained completely into the pan, Shingo pushed it aside and set about putting in the new filter. His brother and sister watched with interest; in the way of young children, they were happy simply to be included in an adult activity.

Suddenly, he cell phone rang.

"Shit!" he cursed, searching for the phone. Miki found it first, and answered it.

"Hello!" she chirped into the phone. She paused. "Oh, hi Nakazato san! No, he can't...he's dirty..."

"Miki! Give me the phone!" he growled. The girl ignored him, simply moving out of reach when he made a grab for the phone.

"...he said a naughty word too...yes, he is...ok...ok, bye Nakazato san!" She pressed the "End" key and set the phone on the ground.

After a few moments of silence, Shingo snorted.

"Well? Are you going to tell me what he said, or am I going to have to torture it out of you?"

She dissolved into a fit of giggles in response. Ryo poked her in the side, which made her squirm and giggle even more. Shingo sighed, finished tightening the nut, and slid out.

"Ok, you! What did he say?" he demanded, snatching her off the ground and hanging her upside-down by her ankles. She laughed and screamed with delight as he shook her.

"What did he say? Talk, or my trusty assistant will tickle you!" he threatened.

"Noooooo!" she shrieked as Ryo advanced gleefully upon her.

"What are you doing?" a voice called from across the lot.

All three looked over to see Takeshi leaning out the lowered window of his GT-R.

"Oi, Nakazato! What are you doing here?" Shingo called, setting Miki down and waving him over.

Takeshi quickly pulled into an open parking space next to the Civic. As he exited the car, he was practically tackled by 15kg of sheer exuberance.

"Nakazato san!" Miki shrieked happily. The Skyline driver smiled and hefted her in his arms.

"Hey Miki. I see what you mean about his being dirty," he remarked as he eyed Shingo, not without a certain amount of interest.

Shingo snorted at them both.

"Thanks for giving me the message," he told Miki, poking her so that she squirmed in GT-R driver's arms. Then to Takeshi, "I coulda at least cleaned up before you got here..."

"No no, I kinda like it," Takeshi said, grinning pointedly. Shingo blinked a few times before blushing furiously.

"Uh..." he faltered, raking a hand through his long hair.

Miki giggled.

"Nichan's red," she felt constrained to add.

"Yes, yes he is," Takeshi agreed.

Shingo frowned and changed the subject.

"Where's Ryo?"

"I'm here!" the young boy emerged from around the other side of the EG-6.

"Good. Why don't you two go upstairs and get cleaned up while I finish this up?" he told them.

Miki flung her arms around Takeshi's neck and clung fast.

"Wanna see Nakazato san!"

"He's not going anywhere...we'll be up in a few minutes. You want to be clean for him, don't you?"

The young girl thought about it a moment, and then released her iron grip on her new friend.

"Promise?" she addressed the GT-R driver.

"I promise," he replied.

"Ok," she agreed, sliding down to the ground. The two children ran across the lot and disappeared into the apartment building.

Shingo sighed.

"I'm sorry..."

Takeshi grinned and wrapped him in a hug.

"Don't be. I don't mind...I rather like them."

"Takeshi..." Shingo backed away from him. "You'll get your clothes dirty. Just let me finish and I'll clean up, ok?"

He bent over the Civic's engine and unscrewed the oil cap.

"It won't take much longer. All I've got to do is pour this oil i-" Shingo gasped and dropped his cap, straightening up with a squeak of surprise.

Takeshi leaned close behind him, his hands roaming beneath the waist of the Honda driver's faded jeans.

"Who said I wanted you to clean up?" Takeshi murmured in his ear.

"But Takeshi, your clothes..."

The Myougi driver growled, jerking Shingo towards him by the waist of his jeans.

"I can /buy/ more clothes," he grunted as he nuzzled Shingo's neck.

The EG-6 driver shivered.

"T-Takeshi...we're in a parking lot!" he hissed. "In broad daylight!"

"Alright," he conceded resignedly, giving him one more kiss before backing away to lean on his GT-R.

Shingo sighed with relief.

"I'll be done in a sec," he mumbled.

He quickly poured several liters of oil into his car, careful not to let the air bubbles spill the viscous liquid. Finally, he screwed the cap back on and slammed the hood shut.

"Ready?"

Takeshi smirked.

"You have no idea..."

Shingo quirked an eyebrow in amusement. He cleaned up his mess, throwing away the old cartons of oil, and picking up his tools.

"Come on."

At the top of the stairs, Takeshi ran smack into Shingo's neighbor as he was leaving his apartment.

"Oh, sorry," he apologized immediately.

"Watch where you're going!" the man snarled.

"Oh, it's you," Takeshi grumbled.

"Hello, Mr. Sakam-" Shingo began, only to be rudely cut off.

"You two! I told you two to keep it down bu-" the neighbor launched into a rant, only to be interrupted by a second person coming out of his apartment.

"Gen!" the tall, rather striking woman barked. The neighbor immediately clamped his mouth shut.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Sakamoto!" Shingo said politely. She smiled warmly at him.

"Hello, boys. Gen, leave them alone," she ordered.

Gen mumbled something under his breath, but turned around and headed down the stairs. At the top of the stairs, Mrs. Sakamoto turned around winked conspiratorially.

"I'm not sure what this 'R' of yours is, but I'd sure like to see it sometime," she quipped before disappearing down the stairs.

Takeshi flushed bright red as Shingo burst into a fit of sniggering.

First through the door, (and still snickering), Shingo found his mother rooting through his fridge.

"Mom!" he pulled up short in surprise.

She retreated from the fridge with a can of beer in hand.

"Why is this the only thing you have in here? Where's the food? Don't you eat?"

"Of course I eat!" he protested.

"Ramen is not food!" she snapped. "You need fresh vegetables, meat, rice. And you really need to clean this place up! Do your laundry, throw those cans away!"

Takeshi came through the door and paused. Seeing him, Mrs. Shouji frowned.

"You didn't take them to the mountain pass again, did you?" she asked sharply.

"No, mom, that was last t-" Ryo quickly slapped his hand over his sister's mouth.

"Of course not, mom. I wouldn't do that…" he trailed off guiltily.

"Of course you wouldn't," she replied dryly. She gave all three of her children a hawkish glare before softening. "Hello, Takeshi. I'm glad you're here, maybe some of your sense might rub off on him." She sighed wearily. "Come on, kids." She ushered the children out the door, then turned and pecked Shingo on the cheek. "Be good, don't spend all your money on gas, and for gods' sakes buy some food, you're thin as a rail!" she scolded before pulling the door closed after her.

Shingo heaved a sigh of relief.

"Mothers…" he groused, screwing his face up in a grimace of distaste.

Unable to restrain himself any longer, Takeshi exploded with laughter. Shingo frowned, then gave up the pretense and joined him. Takeshi wrapped his arms around him and pulled him down onto the bed.

"Aren't you afraid of me yet? I mean, my family's insane…"

Takeshi smirked.

"Are you kidding? I've never laughed so hard in my life!"

"I'm glad I amuse you," he cracked wryly.

"Oh, you do more than amuse me," Takeshi purred, rolling on top of him and planting kisses down his jawline. "Much more."

Shingo grinned as Takeshi pushed his shirt up and lapped tantalizingly at his nipples.

"What're you doing?" he gasped.

"Well, I wouldn't want your dirty clothes getting oil everywhere," he replied practically.

"Oh, ok," he agreed, shedding his shirt.

Takeshi began to unbutton and unzip his pants. Shingo moaned softly as the driver's hands brushed lightly over his growing erection. Slowly, Takeshi slid the faded jeans over his hips and down his legs. Finally, he threw them off the bed with a flourish. Grinning down at the now naked Civic driver, he began to strip off his shirt.

"And what are you going to do now?" Shingo asked.

Takeshi paused thoughtfully for a moment before cracking an incorrigible grin.

"Make sure I rub off on you," he replied as the blue shirt once again joined Shingo's on the messy apartment floor.

The end.


End file.
